


His Becoming

by NeuroWriter14



Series: Ways Back To You [4]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Devil Hannibal, Do not repost, Episode: s03e02 Primavera, Fallen Angel Hannibal, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, M/M, Will Graham Loves Hannibal Lecter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:48:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26331424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeuroWriter14/pseuds/NeuroWriter14
Summary: Things end differently when Will descends into the catacombs of the Norman Chapel.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Series: Ways Back To You [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1904167
Comments: 8
Kudos: 191





	His Becoming

Will's mind drifted over everything that had happened over the last nearly two years he had known Hannibal Lecter. He thought about the day they met. He thought about his lack of interest in the psychiatrist across from him. He thought about how he kept finding himself returning to him, over and over. He thought about Hannibal framing him. He thought about Beverly's death. He thought about Abigail's. Twice, he had lost her because of Hannibal Lecter. He had lost his own child too, the only one he would have ever sired. He thought about that fateful night eight months. He thought about Frederick visiting him in the hospital.

_He wanted you to live._

And live Will had. He was alive. And he never knew what that meant until he was dragging himself back into the cold, harshness of reality. Until he woke up in the hospital, his abdomen ripped open. Forever marked by Hannibal Lecter. Claimed by him as his own. He thought back to those days in the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. He thought back to those talks with Abel Gideon, who was likely long dead by now. He thought about the words muttered around walls and declarations made into stone.

_He's smoke._

Hannibal had been compared to the devil more than once. Will's personal devil. If the devil was Hannibal Lecter then Will had well and truly fallen. Not that he was every truly graced. If there was a God, Will thought they had turned their backs on each other long ago. Will saw too much of his creations, and God knew too much of Will's impulses. Or perhaps, if there was a God, he had made Will for one specific reason. He had made Will for the devil. Whether it was to kill the devil or to be his companion, Will didn't know. He wasn't even certain God knew. How could God know anything about what would happen as Will descended into the catacombs of the Normal Chapel? He was moving away from God. He was dropping more and more into the layer of the devil. Into his arms.

Would he embrace Hannibal when he saw him again? Would he kill him? These were questions everyone wanted the answer to. Rinaldo Pazzi, Jack Crawford, Alana Bloom. Everyone wanted answers about what he would do when he found Hannibal once again. He would be lying if he said he wasn't curious himself. He wanted to know what would happen when he found Hannibal once again. 

The darkness enveloped him as he stepped further into it. Down, step by step, into the darkness. Hannibal was there. He knew it. He knew with every fiber of his being that Hannibal Lecter was in the maze in front of him. And Will was following him into the dark. 

Every heartbeat he took another step down until he landed on even floor once again. He had ignored Pazzi who was still somewhere in the chapel above him. If chapels were places of God, then their catacombs were places of the Godforsaken. He stepped into the catacombs. Torchlights flickered, candlelights flickered. Will idly thought that it was someone's job to come down here and light those. Someone had to step into this place willingly. And now he was as well. The catacombs were low and truly felt like the godless place his mind kept comparing it to. The ceiling was low and completely made of dirt. There were dirt and stone pillars between the floor and ceiling. Bits of painted tiles littered the walls, detailing images that Will couldn't force himself to focus on. His eyes drifted over skulls and bones. The dead roamed here. 

He found Rinaldo Pazzi once again, the man had followed him from the chapel above. Will couldn't deny that he felt the urge to toy with the man. To play on his fear and watch it build in his eyes. Fear was the one thing he could sense the best. He had sensed it with Freddie before. He had sensed it in Randall Tier's final moments. And he sensed it again now, radiating from the other man. And what was worse, was he knew Hannibal was somewhere here as well, sensing the same fear. And that just incensed him more.

"What will you do when you find him? Your Il Mostro?" Will's monster.

"I'm curious about that myself." 

He could feel Hannibal's eyes on him, watching him from the shadows. And eventually, Will sank into them as well. He fell back into the darkness he had so long fought off yet craved. He didn't want to embrace it, but Hannibal left him no choice. So he did. He embraced it. He embraced it and the other who roamed within it. He had seen him, truly seen him that night. He had seen the pain in his eyes at Will's betrayal. His eyes had looked nearly black that night, and Will could almost see the wings above him.

The devil. 

He had betrayed the devil. And Hannibal had betrayed him too. Betrayed his trust. Made him lose his sense of self. They had torn into each other. They had left their marks on each other. Hannibal had left his physically, a long scar in his abdomen. A smile. And Will had left his mark on Hannibal's heart. He knew that night that Hannibal a heart. He had left it in Will's hands before he vanished into the rain. He was here to offer it back.

They danced through the shadows, spinning around each other but never colliding. He wanted to collide. He wanted Hannibal once more. The closer he felt him, the more he knew his choice. He wouldn't kill him. He wouldn't betray him again. 

_Friendship with Hannibal is blackmail elevated to the level of love._

_A mutually unspoken pack to ignore the worst in one another in order to continue enjoying the best._

He saw the best and the worst of Hannibal and he still wanted it anyway. It should terrify him that he did. That's why he was here. But he accepted it. The worst thing Hannibal Lecter had done was force him to accept himself, the best and the worst, and to keep living. He was still living. That made him more dangerous. He was dangerous enough when he suppressed the worst in himself. When he pushed it down and hid it from the world. But Hannibal had forced it into the daylight. He forced him to accept it, to embrace it, to realize that it was a part of him just as much his empathy was a part of him.

His footsteps echoed through the catacombs. But so did another set. 

"Hannibal," He called. And he knew Hannibal froze. He could feel it within his bones. 

He walked into an opening. Light bore down from above, illuminating the round opening he had stepped into. Hannibal was close. He could feel him. He knew he was there just as Hannibal knew Will was there. They could feel each other, as though they were connected on more levels than physical. 

He looked around, suddenly feeling hopeless. He had crossed the world for Hannibal. He had built a boat and came to him, to the entrance of his mind palace. He forced his way into his head. He had done everything to return to him. The least Hannibal could do was show himself. But maybe that was the point. He wasn't showing himself to Will yet. What more did he need to do? What more was there to give? What more did Hannibal want to take from him?

He blinked into the room, suddenly feeling something he had yet to feel. Heartache.

He sighed, feeling emotions clog his throat. 

"I forgive you." 

And still nothing. Nothing. Nothing!

Will dropped to his knees, suddenly feeling hopeless. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, hoping to feel some kind of physical pain to distract him from the sheer, overwhelming emotional pain he was feeling. This was why Will stayed away from people. This was why he never connected. Not because he knew they would never accept him, which they never would. Not because the darkest parts of him would have to be pushed down even further to even be tolerated, which it would be. But because he felt too much. Just as he knew the feelings of others, he felt too. Too much. It was all too much. 

He didn't know how long he kneeled there, feeling everything and nothing. But he did know that eventually, he wasn't alone. 

He thought for certain Hannibal would have left. He thought that it was only him left in these catacombs. Rinaldo Pazzi was a smart man. He would know better than to stay here. Especially with Will and Hannibal wandering around. No. This wasn't Pazzi. This was someone else.

Hannibal. 

It was Hannibal.

He felt the other kneel behind him, one leg between his on the ground and the other knee next to his hip. Hannibal's arms wrapped around him first, pulling his back against his chest. Will's hands came up automatically, gripping his arms. Hannibal buried his face in Will's hair and he could hear him inhaling. 

_Did you just smell me?_

_Difficult to avoid._

Will leaned back against him, feeling the strength of Hannibal's body. His head was still dropped forward and he risked opening his eyes. It was Hannibal. These were Hannibal's arms. He knew them. But strangely he was wearing leather. He almost wanted to laugh. Hannibal Lecter in leather. The other's cheek pressed against his shoulder, resting his head against Will. He was strangely content here, even on his knees in the catacombs. The floor was uncomfortable, it was hard and unforgiving. But Hannibal was forgiving. And he had forgiven Hannibal. His hands gripped the other's leather-clad arms harder, digging nails into it. He wasn't going to let go. Not know. He had him once again. 

Will wasn't exactly surprised when the next thing that wrapped around him were wings. Massive, black wings. They were soft too, feathers brushing his face. He leaned back into Hannibal further.

Abel Gideon was right. Hannibal was the devil. He was Will's devil, come to claim him for himself. Will leaned his head back and closed his eyes once more, resting completely in Hannibal's arms. 

"Come with me," Hannibal whispered in his ear. 

"Yes." 

Hannibal pulled him into a standing position, turning Will in his arms so he could face him once more. He was exactly as Will had remembered. The sharpness of his cheekbones, the curve of his lips, the style of his hair. But his amber eyes were blazing with a hidden light underneath. The devil was an angel once, the most beautiful angel. And Will could see it. He could see the angel under the mask. He could see the darkness and the light. Subconsciously, his hands moved around Hannibal's back, feeling the place where the wings joined his shoulders. Hannibal shuttered slightly in his grasp. He gazed in amazement over the wings, marveling at their soft texture and the feel of their strength as they stayed around Will. Hannibal's arms wrapped around him once more, holding him as much as his wings did. 

Strangely, he never felt safer than he did at this moment. He was wrapped in the arms and wings of the devil, and he had never felt more alive than this. 

"It's true then." He whispered. 

"It's true," Hannibal confirmed. One of his hands drifted upward, cupping Will's cheek as he had that fateful night. 

His thumb ran over his cheek and Will leaned into the touch.

"Are you going to change your mind, Will?" 

He shook his head. "No." He stepped closer, pressing his body flush against Hannibal's. "I've made my choice." 

Hannibal leaned forward, their foreheads pressing together. Suddenly, memories flashed before Will's eyes. Most of them were of Hannibal. His face, his touch. His eyes. One memory, in particular, swam before his eyes. A recent memory.

_"Do you remember when you decided to call Hannibal?" Jack asked, somewhere behind him._

_"I wasn't decided when I called him. I just called him. I deliberated while the phone rang. I decided when I heard his voice." Will focused on the task at hand, ignoring what was likely a pair of dark eyes glaring a hole in the back of his head._

_"You told him we knew."_

_"I told him to leave. Because I wanted him to run."_

_"Why?"_

_"Because he was my friend." He stared somewhere ahead of him, picturing Hannibal there as if he were talking to him. "And because I wanted to run away with him."_

He returned to the moment seeing that amber gaze in front of him once more. 

"You wanted to run away with me," Hannibal smirked slightly.

"Yes."

"Then run with me, my love." 

Their lips met. Will's arm tightened around Hannibal's waist and the other came to the back of his neck, fingers tangling in the hair at the base of his head. Hannibal's hand fisted in his hair and the other one gripped his waist tightly. He felt his wings open and suddenly he felt like he was flying. He clung to the other, their lips still locked together. Hannibal deepened the kiss, his tongue finding its way into Will's mouth. How he knew he could wrap himself around Hannibal more, he didn't know, but he knew he could lock his legs around the other's waist. 

They suddenly Hannibal's wings wrapped around him once more. 

His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton and his body began to ache. 

"Don't fight, my love," Hannibal whispered against his lips. 

And he didn't. The pain began to work its way through his body, starting in his head. It almost felt like the headaches he had when he had encephalitis. The pain traveled lower, running through him like acid. He cried out into Hannibal's mouth, a sound Hannibal drank eagerly. He felt as though his spine was being twisted in a million different directions, snapping and arching. He gripped Hannibal, shaking with pain. But their lips remained locked together. He could practically hear the skin of his back tear, splitting open. Hannibal's wings opened once again, spreading out behind him. Will's back arched with pain, his hand fisting in Hannibal's hair likely too hard. 

It felt like an eternity when the pain began to give way to something else. Something, sweeter. He could hear his bones snapping and shifting slightly before he suddenly began to feel heavier. Something was stretching outward from the muscles at his shoulder, out and out until, suddenly, it stopped. Will's eyes opened. 

Hannibal was under him, wings splayed out behind him, resting on a bed. Will blinked, looking over the bed. It was a wooden canopy bed with black sheets and too many pillows to count. The walls around them looked like black marble and there was flickering in the distance, as though a fire was elsewhere in the room. His knees were on either side of Hannibal's hips. The other had shifted his grip, hands pressing into his hips. Will didn't realize his shirt was suddenly gone until he looked down, seeing a bare chest. Hannibal's eyes roamed over him unabashedly, taking in the sight of him as though he were a man dying of thirst and Will was the water. He pushed himself upward, feeling that strange weight once again. He almost expected horns, like the anthropomorphized version of Hannibal and the ravenstag from his dreams. But it wasn't horns. It was wings. Massive, ocean-blue wings. The same color as his eyes. He could feel the exact stop where they connected with his back. He spread them out, suddenly gaining control over them like a new appendage. 

He poked and prodded at them, feeling them shift with his movements. He spread them again, feeling them stretch over the length of the bed. They were the same length as Hannibal's and when he leaned down once more, their wings brushed. He shuddered, feeling something akin to pleasure run through him. Hannibal cupped his cheek once again, staring at him adoringly.

"Beautiful, my angel. Beautiful."

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to come yell at me on [Tumblr](https://neurowriter14.tumblr.com/) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/NWriter14)


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